


Denial

by actualite



Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Texas Rangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualite/pseuds/actualite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian blurts out a request and is surprised when Salty is up for fulfilling it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Denial

"What, you bored with what we usually do?" Jarrod asks, taking a beer out of the mini-fridge and popping the cap off with his bare hands. He leans back against the table and takes a swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and then resting it on the edge of the table next to him.

"No," Ian says, avoiding his eyes. "I just. This is something I always wanted to try. You know."

Jarrod just watches him silently. Ian gets more and more uncomfortable as the silence draws out.

"Forget it," he says, standing up from where he's sitting on the bed. "You always come in about five seconds anyway."

He moves to brush past Jarrod and go into the bathroom, but Jarrod stops him without even getting up, putting one big hand to Ian's chest. Ian halts in his tracks, his heart beating furiously.

"You never done it before?" Jarrod asks, his voice all smooth and deep and easy, and Ian knows if he looks at him, Jarrod's eyes are going to be naked and inscrutable all at once, like they always fucking are when Ian needs to be able to read them most.

"I said forget it," Ian says angrily, embarrassed that he brought it up in the first place. He doesn't know what got into him, why he chose tonight to ask for it when it's something he thought he'd never ever tell anyone he wanted.

"He wouldn't do it for you?"

Ian's eyes snap over to Jarrod's, and of course, _of course_ Jarrod looks like he feels sorry for Ian. Ian is too angry to speak, and he shoves Jarrod's hand away from his chest, but Jarrod just reaches out and puts his hand at Ian's neck, not letting him get away again.

Ian refuses to look Jarrod in the face, staring instead at the lamp in the corner of the hotel room, working his jaw, his body tense. He feels Jarrod's hand stroking his neck like he's trying to calm Ian down, and that makes Ian even angrier. Jarrod is right, of course. Ian would've killed himself before he ever asked Josh to do anything of the sort; he would never have trusted Josh with something like that. He didn't think he trusted Jarrod to, either, but something about the way Jarrod was rubbing his eyes when Ian opened the door to let him in made Ian want it. Jarrod hadn't even been in the room one minute before Ian was foolishly blurting out his most secret fantasy. _Fuck me without letting me come_ , he'd said, and almost immediately regretted it.

"Okay," Jarrod murmurs. "Okay. I'm up for it, let's try it."

Ian just stands there, still tense, not knowing whether to let it happen or not. Jarrod sets the beer he's holding with his other hand down on the table and pulls Ian close, one hand on Ian's ass and the other cupping his face.

"Anything you want, baby."

"Yeah, right," Ian says, and he knows he's being sullen.

"Look at me," Jarrod commands, and something in his voice is a little different, a little harder, and Ian can't help it, he looks up into Jarrod's eyes.

"You want it, right?" he asks. 

Ian is a little bit afraid of Jarrod for a moment, but it's exciting, too. He nods just a little bit.

"Okay," Salty says, smacking Ian lightly on the bum and then letting his hands drop. "Go get cleaned up, then. I'll wait here for you."

Ian feels himself flush all over and his cock starts getting hard. He hurries into the bathroom, shutting the door and leaning over the sink, trying to calm down, unable to believe that he's actually going to get what he wants.

As he showers and cleans himself up, he tells himself that Jarrod won't be able to do it. They might make it for half an hour before Jarrod either falls asleep or comes enough times that he can't get it up anymore that night. At which point Ian will come back into the bathroom and beat off before kicking Jarrod out to get some sleep before the game tomorrow; he always has trouble sleeping when Jarrod stays, since he's hot as a furnace and likes to spread out all over the place.

Still, he's almost afraid to go out of the bathroom. He wraps a towel around his waist and combs his hair down, parting it in the middle. He checks his face in the mirror for new freckles, examines the scrape on his elbow, prods at the bruise on his thigh, puts the toilet lid down and sits down for a few minutes, trying to take a few deep breaths.

When he goes out, the TV is on, and Jarrod is lying on the bed watching highlights, still fully clothed, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.

"Thought you fell into the toilet or something," he says, smiling benignly and clicking the TV off. "You ready?"

Ian sits down on the edge of the bed, hands clasped and elbows on his knees, the towel separating at his thigh.

Jarrod gets up off the bed, brushing a hand against Ian's shoulder as he does, and pulls his t-shirt over his head, kicks off his shoes and tugs his jeans and shorts off at the same time, and in a matter of seconds he's standing there naked in front of Ian, his cock already half hard. He's so businesslike about the entire ritual that Ian feels stupid for being so nervous. This is Salty, ridiculous, childish Salty who slobbers all over him like a gigantic dog, ruts a few times and then falls asleep on top of him. No, that's not fair, but Ian likes the fact that this is always what he expects from Jarrod, and the fact that he is always pleasantly surprised at how Jarrod exceeds his expectations.

"We doing this?" Ian asks, taking his towel off and scooting back on the bed.

"Here, take the blankets off," Jarrod says, and pulls the duvet and sheets back, kneeling on the bed and coming forward on his knees, that ridiculous gold crucifix swaying side to side with every movement.

He falls onto Ian, settling onto him happily, and the whole situation is so ludicrously mundane. Ian looks over to the window, lets Jarrod kiss his neck and hump his leg until Jarrod is fully hard. He's always liked the way Jarrod smells, and even though he knows Jarrod showered in the clubhouse, it's hot enough that he must've sweat on the way over, because Ian can smell him, just enough, all over, and he feels that familiar sense of contentment at the way Jarrod is rubbing it off all over him. His mind drifts a little, and he thinks about tomorrow's game, going over the pitcher's scouting report and reliving an embarrassing error he made earlier that day, vowing for the hundredth time not to repeat it. He's so preoccupied with this that he hardly notices when Jarrod turns him over onto his side and spoons up behind him, his hardon slipping between Ian's ass cheeks.

"You with me?" Jarrod says softly next to Ian's ear. Ian turns his head back a little, and he shivers when he realizes, all of a sudden, how close Jarrod is.

"Yeah," Ian says. "Yeah, I'm with you."

"Lift up, then," Jarrod says, so Ian raises his knee slightly, and Jarrod pushes his own knee between Ian's thighs to spread them. That movement alone sends a coil of heat through Ian's stomach and makes his cock stiffer, and he arches his back a little, his breath starting to come a little faster.

"You gonna fuck me?" he says tightly, all thoughts of baseball flying out of his head.

Jarrod just laughs a little and strokes Ian's chest almost soothingly, rolling his hips and raising his own knee so that Ian's thighs are spread wider. Ian feels Jarrod reach for something, hears him open the bottle and then feels the cool tips of Jarrod's fingers between his legs. He circles Ian's hole a few times before pressing into it, and Ian's eyes fall shut at the intrusion.

There's nothing like it in the world, and Ian clenches his jaw shut, determined, as ever, not to make any embarrassing sounds. Several times he's let go inadvertently, couldn't help the wounded cry that escaped his lips when Jarrod fucked him just right, like he was unlocking some secret place inside him, but for the most part he's been able to stay in control of himself no matter how good it feels. There's no danger of that now, at least not yet, everything still familiar, warm. He relaxes around Jarrod's finger.

"That good?" Jarrod asks, like he always does. 

"Mm," Ian says, just enjoying it. Jarrod works him, in and out, letting Ian clench around him and then going a little deeper every time he loosens up, and soon Ian is in that strange limbo of relaxed tenseness, needing Jarrod's cock in him, feeling like he's empty, so empty without him.

"You ready?" Jarrod says, again right next to Ian's ear.

"Yeah, just, come on," Ian says, a little whiny, a little bossy. Jarrod positions himself and pushes in, steady and relentless, and Ian forces himself to relax around it. Jarrod is so big, but he's never timid, and it takes everything Ian's got to force his body to let him in.

"That's it, you're doing so good," Jarrod says, like Ian is a virgin, and it should be annoying but it's not, because it's always an effort, and Ian admits, only to himself, that he likes this praise, he likes the fact that Jarrod recognizes how much it takes, and Salty telling him he's doing good turns him on like almost nothing else.

Jarrod makes one final little push to get himself all the way in, and Ian gasps a little, his ass burning but feeling so full, muscles clenching around Jarrod in little spasms. He's sweating despite the fact that they've got the covers off, and Ian thinks about what they must look like on the bed, Ian straining around Jarrod, chest heaving with the effort of taking him in all the way, and Jarrod curled around him, kissing his hair, his shoulder, even his hand, which he's holding – anything of Ian's he can reach.

"Okay," Jarrod says. "Just lie here like this for a while."

Ian is grateful, at first, because it gives him time to adjust, and he just lets his body pulse around Jarrod. The seconds ticking by don't relax him, however; they make him want more, and soon he's ready, wants Jarrod slamming into him, wants to stroke his own cock until he comes.

"How do you feel?" Jarrod asks, leaning up on his elbow.

"I feel like I want you to start fucking me," Ian says, getting grumpy.

He feels Jarrod twitch a little inside him, and has to shut his eyes, his entire body trembling in response.

"Not yet," Jarrod says, and his voice is a little rough. "I wanna watch you jerk off a little first with me inside you."

So Ian does, because fuck if he isn't going to try, at least, to make it a little hard for Jarrod to last and to make sure Ian lasts.

He shuts his eyes again and concentrates on the way Jarrod feels in him, the way he's spread open, the fact that Jarrod is just watching while he tries not to move. Ian gets close, really close, almost on that precipice, when Jarrod's enormous hand wraps around Ian's and halts his movements.

"That's enough," he says. "Now I'll fuck you for a bit. Don't touch yourself." 

He starts moving in Ian, slow at first and then picking up some speed. When Ian reaches for his own cock again, Jarrod hoists them up so that he's leaning over Ian, and Ian is on his hands and knees. Jarrod holds Ian's hands far apart on the bed so that he can't reach down and touch himself, and he angles up with his thrusts, hitting Ian's prostate for the first time.

"Ahh," Ian cries, unprepared for it. He clenches his hands on the sheets, fingers curling into claws, but Jarrod keeps going, each thrust applying blunt pressure to that place, and Ian shuts his eyes, beginning to see stars.

"Okay," he pants, "it's been long enough. I, I wanna come."

"No," Jarrod says, and Ian's elbows nearly give out at the sound of his voice, which is different, more commanding, harder. "We're just getting started."

Ian is afraid, again, but harder than ever. His cock is almost purple, precome leaking onto the sheets. 

Jarrod just keeps fucking him, steady and slow. Ian tries to turn his head around to look at Jarrod, but the position is awkward and it's easier just to let his head hang down. He's straining, wondering if he can come without touching his cock, and he focuses on that, zeros in on the way it feels to have Jarrod stretching him wide, to clench around Jarrod's cock, thinks again about how they look, what someone would say if they came in and saw Salty reaming him, and Ian just taking it, ass spread wide, completely covered up by Jarrod's enormous body.

It doesn't make him come, it just makes him more desperate to be touched. He's hot all over and his arms and thighs are starting to tremble; it's not even like he's not strong enough to support his own weight, but all of his muscles are tight and straining with the effort of trying to come. He can feel Jarrod's cross dragging at his back every time Jarrod pulls back, and the sheets bunched up under his hands and knees are starting to feel rough and uncomfortable. His ass is already raw; it's going to hurt like a motherfucker to sit on the bench tomorrow; he's going to have to lean up against the railing for the whole game.

"Okay," Jarrod says, panting, "I gotta, I gotta stop or I'm gonna come." He pulls Ian back into his lap, and they sit there for a while, Jarrod still pulsing inside Ian.

Ian can't help it, he whimpers. His cock is so hard; it would be so easy just to touch it and let go, but Jarrod won't. He just strokes up and down Ian's sweaty sides as Ian's chest heaves. He wants to go boneless and relax back against Jarrod's huge body, but he can't relax, he's too keyed up, and he shifts restlessly, Jarrod's hands now smoothing over his thighs. 

Jarrod is being so slow and patient and _solid_ , and maybe it's just his need to come, or the exhaustion, but suddenly Ian is overcome with love for Salty and his willingness to do what Ian asked for, and that he's doing it so masterfully. He leans back, turning his head, and finds Jarrod's mouth with his own. Jarrod makes a little surprised noise, but he immediately closes his eyes and takes control of it. It's hard, kissing in this position, but they do it, sloppy and wet, and Ian sucks on Jarrod's upper lip, licks at his teeth, feels the way Jarrod smiles against his mouth. Ian turns around fully, Jarrod slipping out of him, and wraps his arms around Jarrod's shoulders, pressing up against him so that their cocks are jammed together. Jarrod wraps his arms around Ian's back, and Ian kisses his way under Jarrod's jaw, breathing him in, burying his face in the warm, humid hollow of his throat. He can't get enough of Salty, wants to cling to him, never wants to let go.

"Hey," Jarrod says, his voice all quiet and gentle. "You okay?"

Ian doesn't answer, just nods a little under Jarrod's chin and licks a little at his collar bone.

"I ain't ever seen you like this," Jarrod whispers, and he sounds reverent, like he's witnessing some rare natural phenomenon. His hands spread across the damp skin at Ian's hips, and he strokes him soothingly. Ian's heart rate slows a little and he pulls back a little bit to look up at Jarrod.

Jarrod is smiling down at him, his eyes so soft, and he's got the most benign, beautiful, benevolent face Ian has ever seen. For some reason it makes Ian feel almost choked up.

"Here, lie back," Jarrod says, and he lowers Ian onto his back, looming over him, the cross dangling between them. Jarrod swipes it out of the way and settles onto Ian, smoothing Ian's damp hair away from his forehead.

Ian doesn't know where to look; he wants to shut his eyes against the look on Jarrod's face, it's making Ian feel like his heart is cracking open, everything going to pieces inside him, but he can't look away, and he reaches up to trace the line of Jarrod's eyebrows, to hold Jarrod's face between his hands.

"You look like you never seen me before," Jarrod says.

"I didn't know," Ian says, not even knowing what he means, and his voice is croaky and strange.

"Didn't know what, baby?" Jarrod asks, turning slightly to kiss one of Ian's palms.

Ian just bites his lip, shaking his head. He can't explain. Jarrod seems to understand. He smiles and leans forward to kiss the tip of Ian's nose, and then scoots down and starts licking at Ian's nipples.

"What the fuck," Ian says involuntarily. No one has ever played with his nipples before, and it's weird; he's not sure if he likes it. It tickles at first, but Jarrod flattens his tongue over one of them and plays with the other one with one hand.

"They're so tiny," he says, sounding amused.

"Yeah, that's 'cause I don't have bitch tits," Ian says, totally weirded out and yet starting to feel strangely desperate the more Jarrod works them over.

He cries out when he feels Jarrod's teeth graze against the sensitive skin, and Jarrod moves to the other. Ian looks down and sees how red and wet it is from Jarrod sucking on it, and his head drops back down onto the pillow.

"You like it?" Jarrod says, pleased with himself.

"Fuck," Ian moans, starting to breathe hard again. "I can't, I need—"

Jarrod raises his eyes and looks at Ian, and Ian feels himself flushing again, burning hot all over, can't believe Jarrod is seeing him like this, getting so hot over having his tits sucked. "Salty," he croaks, and Jarrod's face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree.

He pushes Ian's legs apart again and reaches for the lube, and this time when he pushes into Ian it's much easier, still burning a little, slick and raw. Ian almost sobs when Jarrod hits his prostate. Jarrod catches the little noise, Ian can see it in his face, and he turns to kiss Ian's ankle, which is resting on his shoulder.

"Shh," Jarrod says. "I'll fuck you so good." Ian moans again, arching his back and reaching for his own cock.

Jarrod bats his hands away and leans forward, pressing Ian's knees back with hands under them so that Ian is spread open as wide as possible.

"Just a li'l longer," Jarrod says, and he starts fucking Ian as promised, hitting that spot over and over, and Ian can't help it, he's getting desperate, exhausted and trembling, his eyes watering with how much he wants to just come already.

"Please," he grunts after a particularly perfect thrust, but Jarrod shakes his head and reaches over to hold Ian's hands down. His eyes are drooping a little, which means he's concentrating, and he's got that focused set to this mouth. He's trying not to come. Ian wishes he had the energy to try to make Jarrod come, but he doesn't, can only lie back helplessly, straining and cursing and almost crying, wishing Jarrod weren't so strong, but loving it, too, loving the way he's putting so much effort into this, making Ian feel like he's become someone completely different, infused with the force of Jarrod's unfettered affection.

"Please," he says again, and strains to free his wrists from Jarrod's grip, but Jarrod just shakes his head.

"Not yet," he breathes. "Not yet." He slows down a little, breathing hard, and Ian goes limp, though everything hurts, everything, and he's so close he can barely stand it.

"Don't cry, baby," Jarrod says kindly, wiping at the moisture leaking out of Ian's eyes with his thumb. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

There's no triumph in the words, only some kind of earnest tenderness, and Ian is suddenly frantic to get away from Jarrod's eyes, those fucking eyes that see everything; it _is_ what he wanted, but he never dreamed that Jarrod would actually be able to give it to him, never thought anyone would do it just right, just the way he wanted. Everything is overwhelming, and he feels weak and shattered and exposed in the worst and best way, so he gathers up every bit of strength he has and scrambles out from under Jarrod, crawling on his hands and knees away from him across the wide expanse of the king size bed. He doesn't know where he's going; maybe he'll crawl all the way to the bathroom and lock himself in.

Of course he doesn't get very far, Jarrod grabs him around the waist and pulls him back, tucking him up against his chest.

"Where you going?" he murmurs.

"Salty," Ian says, because that's the only word he can manage.

"Don't run away from me." He's kissing the back of Ian's neck, and Ian just scrunches his eyes shut, reaching back to hold onto Jarrod's hip, hold onto anything.

"You're fine, you're alright," Jarrod is saying, calm and low.

"I'm—I—" Ian can't find any words, though he needs to say something, needs to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

"I know, baby, I know," Jarrod says, just running his hands soothingly over Ian's torso. "I'm here, I've got you."

So Ian just lets go, eyes shut, nothing in his head but Jarrod in him and all around him, and he's never felt so utterly free in his life. Minutes pass, or maybe hours, or maybe just seconds, and then he feels Jarrod pushing into him again, gently this time, slowly, and they're back in the position they were in when they started.

"Please let me come this time," Ian begs, no shame anymore.

"You ready?" Jarrod asks, and Ian can feel the words through Jarrod's chest, which is pressed up to his back again.

"Yeah," Ian breathes.

Jarrod holds one of Ian's hands on the pillow above their heads and reaches around with his other hand to take Ian's cock in his hand. It's so sensitive that Ian hisses when Jarrod makes contact.

"Hold onto my arm," Jarrod says, and Ian grips Jarrod's forearm tightly. They start moving together with agonizing slowness, Jarrod stroking Ian gently but firmly, and Ian needs it so much, is so desperate that he's making the most embarrassing, guttural moans with every thrust, but he doesn't care, and it doesn't take long before his breath hitches and he comes, back arching, sobbing _Salty_ over and over again, and he feels Jarrod groan into the back of his neck and jerk inside him too.

When Ian comes back to himself, Jarrod is stroking his hair. The sheets are damp and disgusting, and Ian feels like he's been rubbed raw all over. He's still trembling a little, his muscles twitching, and he doesn't know how he's going to look Jarrod in the face after this. He's never begged for anything from anyone, but here, tonight, he's revealed everything, opened himself up to needing something that he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of, and there's only one person in the entire world who can give it to him.

"Hey," Jarrod says softly.

Ian doesn't answer, just grips a pillow tightly.

"You with me?" Jarrod asks.

It's what Jarrod asked at the very beginning, Ian remembers. Ian is going to answer the same way, but he hopes Jarrod will understand that he's saying something completely different this time.

"Yeah," Ian whispers. "Yeah, I'm with you."


End file.
